Love Is
by CastleQuill
Summary: Everyone is born with the name of their soulmate on their arm. But nobody knows what to think when children on both the ground and the Ark begin to be born with their soulmate's name written in a language not their own. Clexa


Note: As far as I can tell, Trigedasleng is spoken only – it doesn't seem to have its own alphabet. For the purpose of this story, though, I'm taking some liberties and saying that the grounders _do_ have their own letter system.

* * *

Lexa was only a few minutes old, still covered with the blood from her birth, when Anya noticed the words on her arm.

Anya was young then, barely into her teenage years. But already she had been chosen as the one who would raise the commander. Just as Lexa was the spirit of their commander reincarnated, Anya's body contained the spirit of her teacher – the same two souls reborn each new generation, the teacher always coming before the commander, ready to raise her up and forge her for battle, just as she had done many times before. The newborn commander was immediately placed in Anya's arms, and so Anya was the first to realize that the commander's soulmate was not among their people.

Anya was only just beginning her studies in English, but she knew enough to recognize the shape of the letters, different than anything written in their language.

"Look," Anya said, and turned to present the Commander's arm to the medicine man. He was cleaning the woman who had given birth, helping to ease her body through the afterbirth and wiping the blood from her legs, but now he paused and turned toward Anya. His eyes widened.

English had only one use. It was the language of the Mountain Men, passed down through Anya's people for the express purpose of being able to understand their enemies. It was a dirty language, a cursed language, and they would not let it pass their lips any more than necessary. To be born with that language on your arm could only mean that you were meant to love someone from the Mountain, and it was enough to turn your entire existence into an act of treason. Those with an English soulmate could never be trusted, less they turn against their people and embrace the Mountain's evil, for everyone knew that the bond between soulmates was the only bond that even came close to matching the bond between a person and their tribe.

But the commander would not betray them.

In fact, they came to realize that the opposite had occurred. Far from becoming a traitor, this incarnation of the commander was meant to be their salvation.

* * *

It wasn't unheard of for your child to be born with their soulmate's name written in a language that you didn't understand. The Ark was made up of twelve different stations, all from different countries – Abby wasn't entirely sure how many languages still survived, but it was definitely more than she'd ever be able to learn in her lifetime. Aside from the fact that each station had its own official language – though most spoke English as well, for ease of communication – there were groups dedicated to preserving lesser-known languages that in danger of dying out completely, and many of them raised their children to speak it before they learned anything else.

Even so, Abby thought that she'd at least be able to recognize all of the different types of letters that were still in use on the Ark. As she stared down at the letters on the Clarke's arm – a faint gray against her pale skin – she realized that she had been wrong.

Beside her, Jake chuckled, reaching over to gently touch the downy hairs on the top of Clarke's head. "I'll be interested in seeing what language that ends up being," he said, moving his hand down and barely tracing the letters along her skin, as though she was almost too precious to be touched (_and she was, she was the most precious thing in the Ark, and so perfect_).

Abby smiled, and leaned back to rest against Jake's chest. "At least it shouldn't be hard to find her soulmate, when she's ready," she said.

There were different schools of thought as to when was the right time to look for your child's soulmate. Some said that it was best for the soulmates to grow up together, to always have each other to turn to. Others maintained that puberty and the teenage years were hard enough without having the added stress of a soulmate. It was better to find them after you'd already grown up and made your mistakes, and were ready to enter into a permanent relationship. Abby and Jake had known each other since they were only five years old, and Abby still shuddered to think about the fights they'd had as teenagers, the kinds that had nearly torn them apart completely. She wanted to spare her daughter that pain, save her soulmate for when Clarke was mature enough to handle it. Jake, of course, argued the opposite. He pointed out that the fights hadn't actually ruined their relationship – far from it, they had made their love stronger. Shouldn't Clarke have the same experience?

Abby didn't quite agree, but that had never stopped Jake in the past – truly, nothing could stop him when he'd made up his mind. And so, only two months after Clarke had been born, they began to ask around, to see if anyone recognized the language.

Three months later, they realized how wrong Abby had been to assume that finding Clarke's soulmate would be simple.

By the time that Clarke was a year old, they realized that they may never find her soulmate at all. They were positive now, the language belonged to no one on the Ark. Nobody so much as recognized the letters, let alone being able to understand them.

Nobody knew what to think.

* * *

Lexa was six years old, and just beginning to understand what a soulmate was.

The grounders had never put much stock in soulmates. They weren't allowed to seek them out, weren't allowed to risk having anything distract them from their duty toward their commander. Yet their birthgivers still gave them a written name – the only words written in their language – meant for them to use to recognize their soulmate, if they happened to meet. And those without soulmates couldn't help but feel the pangs of jealousy that struck when they saw the way that two soulmates shone for each other.

Lexa was practicing with her sword – a small thing, just barely sharp enough to cut but light enough that it couldn't cause any permanent damage. She swung at the tree trunk that they were using as practice, but the fallen leaves underfoot made it difficult to keep her footing, and she tumbled to the ground.

"Gyon op nodotaim," Anya said. _Get back up._ She leaned forward and rested her head on her hand, watching Lexa idly from her seat on a fallen log. Lexa frowned and shoved her hair out of her face – it had come undone from her braids – and started to push herself to her feet. Then she stopped, still on her hands and knees in the dirt, staring at Anya. Her teacher was no longer watching her, but rather, was looking across the camp to where Gentia was training with another soldier. Gentia was Anya's soulmate, and though they were not allowed to live together – the commander's teacher couldn't allow such distractions – Lexa knew that the two stole moments together when Lexa was in another's care.

"When will I find my soulmate?" Lexa asked in Trigedasleng, drawing Anya's eyes back to her.

For a moment Anya said nothing. Then she patted the log beside her, face grave. "Sit," she said. "The sword can wait."

Trembling, Lexa did so. She had long since grown accustomed to the grave expression that crossed people's faces when they spoke to her – despite her age, she was still the commander, and had never been treated as a child. Even so, she still couldn't help but feel nervous as she waited to hear what her teacher would say.

And Anya explained, about the Mountain Men and the English and the terrible things that they did. Lexa had grown up listening to tales of the Mountain Men. She already knew that they stole Lexa's people and drained them for blood, turned their strongest warriors into horrifying creatures who destroyed themselves for drugs and feasted on flesh. But she hadn't realized that the letters on her arm were in their language, or that her soulmate was among them.

But it was okay, Anya assured her. For Lexa would be the one to destroy the Mountain Men for good.

Anya explained, and at the end, Lexa nodded her head and promised that she understood. She was not meant to have a soulmate the way that Anya and some of the others did. She was meant to find her soulmate, but not to love her or keep her. Lexa's job was to find her soulmate among the people of Mount Weather, to seduce her and earn her love. Then, using the information that she had gleaned from her soulmate, Lexa would find a way to destroy them completely.

It would be difficult. She would have to betray her soulmate for the sake of her people, and Anya said that that was the hardest sacrifice that a person could make. But it had to be done, and Lexa was strong enough to do it.

"Don't love her," Anya warned, reaching to run her fingers down Lexa's braid in an unusually tender gesture. "You must make her love you. Lie to her, spin her pretty stories and promise to care for her forever. But do not let yourself love her. It will be so much harder for you if you do."

"I won't," Lexa promised. She understood what Anya was saying, and why it was necessary. Of course her people would be more important that anything or anyone. She would not allow herself to love anyone, not even her soulmate, because she could not afford to let emotions rule her mind.

For Lexa, love would always be weakness.

* * *

By the time that Clarke was seven, it became clear that Clarke wasn't the only one with the strange letters on her arm. There was another boy in her class, John Murphy, who had the same types of letters, and he snarled at anyone who pointed them out or called him strange. And there were a couple of the other kids in the younger grades, people whose names she didn't know, but she saw them whenever they passed in the halls. Wells kept telling her not to let it bother her, that it didn't make a difference that the letters were weird. Last year they had snuck away from their class, and he'd pressed his lips against her super quick and then turned and ran away, but they couldn't be soulmates because his soulmate's name was in English, and it wasn't hers.

It seemed like everyone on the Ark was interested in them now. Everyone saw it as a mystery to be solved, for a while she could barely walk anywhere without someone stopping to ask her about it. The other kids were having the same problem, too. Except it had quieted down now, mostly because it wasn't like she knew anything that she could tell them, and also nobody had a clue about anything.

Which was why she didn't expect it when a boy came over and asked, "So what's with the letters?"

Clarke turned, and had to tilt her head back to look at him. She recognized him, she thought. Bellamy Blake. He was in one of the older classes, old enough that she didn't ever talk to him, but Unity Day had been a couple weeks ago and he'd been chosen to give a speech at the ceremony. Something about how he wrote the best essay in his class. That's why Clarke knew him.

"I don't know," she said, reaching over to defensively cover the name on her arm. She was getting real sick of having people ask her about them. Her eyes flickered to his arm. His soulmates' name wasn't anything that she recognized, and it had an accent mark above the letters that wasn't in English, but Clarke had seen some Spanish letters before and they had the same kinds of marks on them, so she figured that that's what they were. "Why do you care?"

"I just wanna know, okay?" he said roughly. "So just tell me! What do you know about them?"

Clarke bit her lip, and thought about saying that she really didn't know anything, except that nobody on the whole Ark could figure out where this language had come from. But he was annoying, and anyway, why should she tell him anything?

She stuck out her tongue at him. "Not gonna say anything," she said. "Not unless you got a better reason than that."

And Bellamy hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a reason that'd sound believable. But he couldn't tell her the truth – that his sister had the same kinds of letters on her arm, that he needed to find out as much about them as he could so that he could protect her like he'd promised. So instead he just walked away.

* * *

Lexa was thirteen. She had resigned herself to never feeling love, but that turned out to be far more difficult than her younger self had thought.

But she was also beginning to think that her love wouldn't be so bad as Anya had claimed, because the girl she loved was not from the Mountain, but from Lexa's own clan.

Costia had been born only a few seasons before Lexa. She was the strongest of their age group, Indra's second, and set to become Lexa's main guard within a few years. She was grace and fury personified, could whirl around the battlefield with a weapon in each hand and send men twice her size to their knees. A man had betrayed their village, had tried to make a deal with the Mountain Men – trading three of their people in exchange for his soulmate. Costia had been ordered to deal with him as part of her training, and her knife had always cut just right, bleeding the man without allowing him to die. His screams had been horrifying to behold, it was all that Lexa could do to keep her face neutral as the ordeal dragged on, but Costia's blade had never wavered.

Yet her hands transformed when they were alone together. Those hands that wielded blades with sharp precision became soft against Lexa's skin. Her lips were softer still. She was strength, but she was also beauty.

And she was worthy to love the commander. She would not force Lexa to betray her people, for they were of the same clan. She would not endanger Lexa or need her protection, because Costia was more than able to defend herself. She would not lead Lexa astray with her counsel, for her mind was quick, and sometimes Lexa wondered if she it would have been better for Costia to be born with the commander's spirit inside of her, instead of Lexa.

But Lexa could also look into Costia's eyes and see unwavering faith there. Costia believed that Lexa would lead their people on the correct path, and that more than anything made Lexa believe it, too.

Sometimes Lexa stared down at the English letters on her arm, and wished that the name was Costia's. More often she traced the letters on Costia's arm, barely visible on her beautiful dark skin, and wished that the name spelled in the Trigedasleng letters – a name that neither of them recognized – was her own.

But she also came to realize that it didn't matter, and that it was a blessing to not be Costia's soulmate. For Lexa couldn't image how she could ever love her soulmate more than she loved Costia, or that they would ever willingly part from each other. Lexa could keep Costia's love, and she wouldn't need the love of her soulmate. She would be free to one day venture into the Mountain and seek her soulmate, to find that girl and manipulate her into betraying her own people so that the grounders could saved. And then Lexa would return to her village and fall into Costia's arms, and all would be well.

It was the perfect plan, Lexa thought. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she did not dread the future.

* * *

Clarke was fourteen, curled in a ball on her mom's lap. Her mom ran her hand through Clarke's hair, again and again and again, but it wasn't enough to stop her tears.

"I hate this stupid name," she said, her nails scratching over the skin on her arm where her soulmate's name was written. Abby reached down and grabbed her hand, stopping her. "Why can't I just have a normal soulmate? Why do I have a name like this?"

"I don't know," Abby admitted, and pressed her lips against the top of Clarke's head. "You just have to keep waiting. I'm sure it will make sense soon."

"When?" Clarke demanded. "How?" It wasn't fair. Wells had met his soulmate yesterday – a girl from Tesla Station – and all day at school he'd been talking about brown eyes and red lips and the bows in her hair. And Clarke was happy for him. It wasn't like she really liked Wells, not really – not as more than a friend – but it still hurt. It seemed like everyone in her class had found her soulmate. Murphy had been the only other one in her class to have these types of letters, and he'd disappeared sometime earlier that year – she'd heard rumors that he was in the Sky Box, but nobody would actually tell her anything – and now it was just her.

And she hated it. She hated seeing that goofy smile on Wells' face. She hated watching the two boys who sat in front of her pass each other notes in class and kiss each other's hands. She hated when the girls sat together during lunch and gossiped about who had the hottest soulmate and who had already kissed them. But mostly she wanted to be a part of them.

Clarke buried her face in her mom's shirt, and whispered, "What if I don't have a soulmate? What if these letters mean I'm broken? What if there's nobody for me?"

"You are not broken," Abby said fiercely. "You are the strongest girl I know, Clarke. So much stronger than you believe. You have a soulmate, Clarke, I promise you that. And even if you didn't, it would mean nothing about who you are."

Clarke swallowed hard, new tears streaming down her face. She felt stupid for crying about this, for not being able to pull herself together, but she couldn't help it. "But I want someone to love me."

"And someone will," Abby promised. "You're too good to not find love, Clarke. Just wait."

"But I want that person to be my soulmate, not just any old person," Clarke insisted. "If I do have a soulmate, then why do I have these letters? Why doesn't anyone know anything about them? What do they _mean_?"

And Abby didn't have an answer.

* * *

Lexa was seventeen, and Costia was dead.

She would not allow herself to become distracted again.

* * *

Clarke was on the ground, a girl sent to die before she even turned eighteen, and they weren't alone.

She had spent so much of her life wondering what it meant that she had letters on her arm that she couldn't read. Now, she knew.

It was easy to ignore at first, to pretend that she'd never had this realization. Jasper needed her to take care of him, and even after he'd begun to heal, there was so much more to worry about. They needed food and a good source of water. They needed to build better shelters, start working on the wall. They needed to contact the Ark and say that Earth was survivable. Most of all, they needed to keep themselves from being killed by the grounders.

But she couldn't forget about it completely. Octavia wouldn't let her.

It was the day after Lincoln had escaped from the dropship, and though everyone was reasonably certain that Octavia had been involved somehow, nobody said a word, least of all Bellamy, though his face was stormy every time he looked at her.

But now, Octavia pulled Clarke to the side of the camp. They were alone, far enough away that nobody would be able to overhear them. Octavia looked Clarke straight in the eyes and said, "Lincoln's my soulmate."

Clarke looked at Octavia's arm, the name written with the same letters as the ones on Clarke's skin.

Octavia saw where Clarke's gaze had landed, and thrust her arm forward to give her a better view. "These letters are his name, written in his language. He told me so," she insisted. Clarke opened her mouth, but Octavia cut her off. "Don't tell me he was lying," she said. "He wasn't. He has my name on his arm, too. I saw it. He showed me. The letters were covered by other tattoos, that's why Bellamy didn't see it – Lincoln said his people are ashamed of having a soulmate's name in our language, it was covered up. But I can still read it, it's there."

Clarke swallowed hard, and nodded. It was exactly as she had suspected, then. This language did belong to the grounders.

"Don't you see?" Octavia said, stepping forward and grabbing Clarke's arm. "We have soulmates among their people. _You _have a soulmate among their people." She stepped even closer, squeezed Clarke's arm tighter. "I don't know what happened between you and my brother, but he trusts you now. You can talk to him. Find a way to make peace."

But peace didn't seem to be an option.

A part of Clarke had known this from the moment that the spear had hit Jasper's chest, that her soulmate must be a grounder. And she'd also realized that there may be no hope of a reconciliation between their people. When she'd had sex with Finn, it had been less about him and more about sending a message to herself. If her soulmate was among the grounders, then their relationship was doomed from the start. It was time to give up on the idea of one day meeting her soulmate, and to give up hope of a happily-ever-after.

Still, though, she couldn't help but hope that the happy ending may come, anyway. When Finn mentioned making peace a short time later, now with a concrete plan of how it would be accomplished, she was cautious, but still hopeful. Maybe it would work out, after all. Maybe it didn't have to end in death.

She didn't actually know if the grounders had been planning to attack, or if Jasper had been the one to ruin the peace. In a way, it didn't actually matter. The end result was the same. Their last chance at an alliance had been destroyed, and though Clarke knew that the loss of life was the most important danger, she couldn't stop her chest from aching at the thought that she would never meet her soulmate.

But there was nothing to be done. She had to focus on protecting her people.

Clarke Griffin steeled her heart and prepared for war.

* * *

Lexa knew that the Sky People were enemies, and she didn't believe that anything that their leader said would change that. Still, though, she thought it worthwhile to hear their words, at least. And so she dressed herself carefully, choosing her most impressive armor and undoing her braids so that she could style her hair into the most intricate pattern she knew, painting the skin around her eyes with the black kohl to demonstrate her status. It would not do for the Sky People's commander to see any weakness in her, or even to believe that they perceived weakness where there was none. They were at war. That called for all her strength.

Finally she sat herself on her throne, a knife held idly in her hand, and ordered Gustus to allow the Sky Person in to see her.

She had already seen the two male Sky People, had posed as a servant to seek out their true worth. But she hadn't truly believed that either of them could be the leaders of the Sky People. The second man had been stronger than she'd thought, had cut through his arm to allow the other to live – but a true leader wouldn't have hesitated to sacrifice their follower, because a leader would know that their own life was more important. And anyway, it had been weak of him to survive his self-inflicted wound. If one of Lexa's people ever turned their blades on themselves to save Lexa's life, they would cut deep enough to die properly.

Those men were weak, and she had no patience to deal with them further. But the leader who entered the tent now was not a man. She was a girl, no older than Lexa herself. Unarmed, her clothes torn and dirty.

But she had the face of a leader. There was power in her voice and gravity in her eyes. She spoke of peace, of unity, and her words were persuasive. She promised to bring their reapers back from the dead – for the reapers no longer lived even though their hearts still beat – and her words were enough to make Lexa wish to believe.

She had spent her entire life being warned against the pretty words that would be spoken by her enemies. She would not allow herself to think with her emotions and not her head. If this Sky Person did succeed in swaying Lexa to her side, it would be because of the strength of her argument, not the beauty in the way that she spoke them. This girl had burned their warriors in a ring of fire. One of her people had slaughtered one of Lexa's villages, and this leader offered no retribution. And yet Lexa knew that the Mountain Men were the true enemies, the ones who had drained her people for decades, the ones with the true power. And if the Sky People could aid them in destroying the mountain, then Lexa could not afford to turn this alliance away.

The fact that this leader carried a strength that made Lexa want her was not related to her decision.

"Prove to me that you can save the reapers as you say, and we will forge an alliance," Lexa said, and plunged her knife into the arm of her chair before standing and stepping forward. "Now tell me, Leader of the Sky People, what do your people call you?"

And the leader answered.

Lexa spoke English fluently, but her people did not read. She could understand the basic phonetics of English, but no more. But it was still enough to make her imagine how the name on her arm would sound if spoken aloud, and the name that the leader spoke now was similar enough to make her pause.

Lexa's eyes narrowed. "Remove your coat, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke appeared confused, but she hesitated for only a moment before nodding and doing so. Her arm was angled toward Lexa, and one glance was enough to see that it was Lexa's own name that was imprinted on this Sky Girl's skin.

And Lexa realized that it was her destiny to destroy Mount Weather with her soulmate. It was just going to happen a little bit differently than Anya had planned. Her soulmate was not someone who she would need to betray for the sake of her people. Rather, she and her soulmate would ride into battle together, to liberate their people through strength and power, possibly even to forge a great alliance that could stop this war.

Perhaps Lexa's love was not weakness.

Hodnes laik uf.

_Love is power. _


End file.
